


Sin

by uglyinternet



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Devil worship, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fingering, Glove Kink, Leather, Light Choking, Light Dom/sub, Masturbation, slightly dissing god
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 10:08:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16637912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uglyinternet/pseuds/uglyinternet
Summary: He wanted her to give into her sin. Give in to him.





	Sin

**Author's Note:**

> i didn’t know i had a glove kink until michael wore them read gloves! 
> 
> this also dives a little into dissing on the christian faith, so please don’t get offended!

Langdon had only been at the outpost for a few days and his presence alone had set everyone on edge. But once he announced that he would only be taking a handful of people with him to the sanctuary and that those who did not pass whatever criteria he was looking for, would stay and their days would be numbered.

Both options set her on edge. She did not wish to be left behind and torn apart by whatever monsters were lurking out there. But undergoing an interview full of personal question in the presence of Langdon, made her feel even more on edge. Nerves had bubbled inside of her and she sat on the edge of the leather chair the entirety of the interview. Fiddling with her fingers, fixing her hair, trying not to tap her heel against the floor.

Her eyes darted from Langdon‘s icy stare, to the floor. Eye contact with him had her stomach twisting and turning and her lower stomach burning. She couldn’t read his expressions. They all came off neutral and blank. Only a slight hint of a smirk came to him when the questions grew even more personal and had her squirming in her seat. He seemed to love the look of uncomfortableness on her. Like it suited her well.

And once the interview had come to a close she wasted no time in locking herself away in her room. Each question, each remark, each stare, twitch of his lips, stuck in her head, replaying over and over. She had never been in the presence of someone who made her feel so anxious and yet having her lower region aching all at the same time.

Being raised in a small Christian family they did not discuss much about sex, or the desire of it, other than it was a sacred act between husband and wife. Any urges before that time were to be ignored. Her mother had told her that those feelings were the devils way of testing her faith, her strength. And that was as far as her educational talk on sex and how things worked went. Everything involving the act was frowned upon, forbidden, the devils way of teasing and testing, unless you were married. Then it was a beautiful thing shared between lovers.

The devil had been breathing down her neck, itching at her belly, a burning and aching coming from her lower region, he had her questioning her faith, her strength. Pressing her thighs together only made the ache worse. Reading scripture, no repeating, could take her mind from the ache. The temptation of pleasure and forbidden fruit nipping at her neck, her mind, her finger tips. Just a little touch, just a little friction, anything, it wouldn’t be too bad. No one would know. Except god would and the devil, he would win.

Her mother had never taught her how to fight temptation, how to look it in the eye and say no. To relieve your mind from the tortures aches and need to be touched, for pleasure.

So when her fingers slipped past the waistband of her underwear one night, her night gown pulled to her stomach, she had been surprised. Not at how little she had done to fight it, but how amazing it felt, to give in, to succumb to her wants, to desire, to pleasure. Soft moans filled her room as she made herself come over and over again.

A sick feeling settling in her belly once she had realized how weak she had been. How she couldn’t fight the devilish feelings. The sin. She prayed for forgiveness until her voice was lost and her knees were raw. She vowed to never let those feelings take over her again, to never give in to the devil again.

But each night the devil visited her and she came again and again. And each time she would ask for forgiveness to the point where she felt as if it were falling on deaf ears. God must not have been listening. He couldn’t give her the strength, the insight, to stop herself from feeling pleasure. To stop her from giving into impulse.

And yet the sick feeling she got each time she got from the sheer satisfaction and pleasing feelings that washed over her after she had finished, still lingered.

Even after locking herself in her quarters, her naked body laid out on her bed, her eyes clenched shut, her fingers eliciting needy moans of pleasure from her lips, as images of Langdon flashed through her head. Her breath hitching as she imagined him. His stature, the way he towered over her. The way he smelt of honey and burning embers. Even the way he wore his clothes, it was sexy to her, enticing. The tight black jeans and dress shirt fitting to his body perfectly. The sound his boots made on the hardwood floor. And those red gloves. Oh how she wished she could feel the leather running across her skin. She wanted nothing more than to feel the rough texture of them on her body. She wanted to feel his lips exploring her body, his deep voice falling against her ear like honey, like liquid pleasure.

And after she had made herself come to the thought of him, that sickly feeling plagued her again as she laid in bed staring up at the ceiling thinking about what she had just done.

She had never let herself feel okay with the lust filled joy and pleasure she felt. But the more she resisted, the more she held it against herself, the more she felt bad about it, the more she wanted to do it.

And a wave embarrassment fell over her. She didn’t even know Langdon, and yet here she was thinking all of these dirty thoughts about him. Lusting over him. It was sick of her. And yet she wanted to do it again. She wanted more of him.

But she was sure that their interview had not been anything less than mediocre. The way she avoided eye contact and acted like a skittish dog. She already anticipated the announcement that she would not be going to the sanctuary. And did she really deserve to go? She was sure he didn’t want sinners, people who repeated the same dirty acts over and over out of selfish desire.

That is why, the next day after their interview, when she had opened her door to find Ms. Mead behind it and telling her that Langdon would like to see her, she was surprised. She did not know if he had intended to do follow up interviews or if he was only asking for her to tell her that she did not make the cut. Either way, her heart had been beating in her chest, pounding in her ear drums so much that she didn’t hear him enter the room. Her eyes too fixated on the fire as she sat in the leather chair, her fingers tapping against the arm nervously, awaiting those words of ‘you are to stay here and die’.

“Tempting isn’t it?” His voice startles her, she quickly turns in the leather chair to find him stood right behind her. His hands clasped behind his back as his lips turn up into a sly smile, walking around her, his eyes never leaving her’s as if he were stalking her like pray, coming to a stop when he’s stood in front of her.

“What is?” She asks nervously. His gaze alone sending a burning heat through her that starts at her cheeks and ends at her core. 

“Fire.” He responds. Her face must of shown all of the confusion that was going on within her head because he laughs softly to himself before he elaborates his statement. “The way one looks at fire, it’s both with fear and awe. It is tempting in that sense of wonder and curiosity. You know it’s going to burn you and yet you feel drawn towards the heat of it. Towards the curiosity of its beauty. It is like sin.”

The corner of his mouth pulls up in a half smirk when he see’s how the word sin has her squirming uncontrollably. The way she pulls at her purple dress. The way her breathing changes. The way she looks as if a fire were burning through her body.

She doesn’t know how to respond. Her mind draws a blank. The only thing she can focus on is him. Not his words. But him. His presence. His essence. How she has to bend her neck back to look up at him, he’s so tall, so beautiful. She swallows the lump that’s rapidly growing in her throat, it feels dry and in need of water. Her whole body in need of something, anything. In need of him.

She can feel her cheeks heat up, her entire body. She can’t tell if it’s embarrassment or if it’s from him. This intense effect he has over her. To make her feel, to make her think things she shouldn’t in his presence or at all. She doesn’t know. But whatever she is feeling she is sure he can tell. His lips never straying from that smirk, the glint of joy in his eyes as he reads her like a book.

“Tell me,” he breaks the silence. “Do you know much about sin?”

Her throat clenches, drys up from his words. Did she know much about sin? Her fingers could show you all she knew about sin. The work they could do underneath her dress, all the dirty thoughts. Yes, she knew much about sin. But she didn’t know how to answer. Was he looking for a no? Is that what he wanted? Someone who had never encountered such acts of sin? Or did he want the truth. Did he want sin?

She was sure her expression of surprise and anxiousness answered his question for him. She didn’t need to confess. She didn’t need to explain. He knew. It’s as if he could read the dark parts of her mind. He knew she knew about sin. He knew she had sinned, many times, and to him.

“You have, haven’t you?” His smirk grows into a satisfied one, as if he had succeeded in something she was not let in on. He didn’t look surprised, he didn’t look curious. He looked like he knew. Like he knew and the fact that she did not answer gave him what he hardly knew, gave him satisfaction. “Oh yes, you have.” His voice has a low undertone to it.

She hates that it makes a throbbing pulse go through her that stops at her core. She hates how he’s staring at her. His eyes boring into her like he’s taking a part each layer of who she is, what she has done. Each layer bringing a smirk to his face. A satisfaction to him. A knowing.

“Tell me,” he bends down so they are eye level. His gloved hand coming to rest upon her clothed knee. “How have you sinned?”

Another question that makes her clam up. Another question that makes her throat grow dry and she doesn’t know how to answer. Where to look. What to do. But his eyes are locked on hers, his hand, covered in those crimson leather gloves, on her knee has her skin burning even through the thick material of her dress.

She stares at the leather. She swallows. Trying not to think of how she wants to feel the smooth material on her skin. She tries not to think about how lovely the red color would look in contrast of her skin. How they screamed desire. Pleasure.

She wants to lie. She wants to not answer at all. But she knows she can’t. She knows he will know if she’s lying, and she knows he will get an answer out of her some how.

How she did not know. She did not see him harming her. But, she did see him using the right methods, any methods necessary to get to her to spill. To confess. To share her sin with him. And if this was going to get her into the sanctuary, if this was going to get her closer to him then why not?

“I–um,” She begins. Her hands shaking. Her mind going crazy. She can’t think of anything but his gloves. His hand on her knee. The heat it’s causing between her legs. She can’t think about anything other than him.

He smirks. His thumb rubbing a small, gentle, circle on the side of her knee. 

“No need to feel nervous. Sin to me is righteous. Something of great power. Great will. Strength.” He reassures. “I don’t need the hypocrisy of the old world. Chaos has won. Sin has won.” His eyes light up with something she can’t read, but it’s something she trusts. Something that makes her want to confess to him. Something that makes her want to spread her legs and show him. “So tell me.” He counters again, “tell me all of your sins. The ones you have kept hidden for so long. The ones that would put your mother and father to shame. The sins you’ve done in the confines of your own bedroom,” she can feel the heat in her cheeks. It’s embarrassment, it’s shock. It’s a lot of things.

How could he have known? Did her face tell it all? Every secret? How much did he know?

It frightened her. Yet excited her at the same time. He knew about her, and yet he wanted her to confess. To him. For him.

“Tell me about how you would lay in bed late at night, dead silent, the only thing on your mind lust and desire. The very things your mother warned you about. The very things the devil was making you feel. Tell me how you gave into him. How you pulled down your underwear and touched yourself until your brain was filled with nothing but ecstasy and regret.” His gloved hand comes up to her jaw, his pointer pressing under her chin to bring her gaze back up to him. His eyes dark with something she can’t read, cutting through her like knives. “Tell me, confess to me.”

She should find it pathetic how quickly she wants to give in to him. How quickly she finds the answer sitting on the tip of her tongue, waiting, wanting to be told, wanting to confess. But she doesn’t. It just excites her more. It just makes her want to confess everything to him. Every feeling. Every desire. He is her Judas. Her priest. Willing, wanting, waiting for her to open her dirty soul, her dirty desires to him.

“I would pray every night.” She begins. The words coming from her shaky. Her confidence anywhere but with her now. “Pray that whatever sin, whatever evil the devil was making me feel,” she hesitates. Her eyes motioning towards her lower regions. “Down there,” she whispers more softly than the last. “I would pray for him to make it go away. Make the ache go away.”  
“But it never went away, did it?” He asks. His brow arched slightly in knowing, yet interest.

She shook her head slowly. Trying to avert her eyes but no matter which way her eyes shifted, his thumb made due in pulling her chin back to him, back to his gaze.

“No.” She confesses. “The feeling never went away. It became worse, until–“

“Until you could not take anymore.” He finishes for her. “Until you gave into the want, the desire. The sin.” He smiles. “The devil over took you and you loved it. Didn’t you?” The way she shifts her eyes nervously, her squirms, as if she doesn’t know what game is being played here, it excites him. It shows how innocent she likes to play. But oh, he see’s her. He reads her. Knows her. She’s not innocent at all. “And you liked it. Correct?”

“Yes.” She whispers. Almost too afraid to even admit it to herself. But she admits it and it has him pleased.

Has him feeling ways he himself is not fully sure of. Ways that feel like satisfaction laced with desire. Desire to have her spread her legs and show him how she gave into the devil, how she worshiped him with her finger tips. But he was sure she would rather him do it himself. Use his fingers on her. The way her eyes shifted to the red gloves that covered his hands. How any flex of his fingers against her knee made her breath hitch. Yes. That’s exactly what she wanted.

“You like to pretend you’re strong. Pretend like the prayers of forgiveness work. As if they are not falling on deaths ears.” He reads her like an open book. “There is no need to pray away your sin. The devil is giving you what you want, he is giving you pleasure. God could never do that.” His smirk widens. “And you know that don’t you? Deep down you know it’s all a waste. Gods not listening. So you keep giving in. You keep letting the devil have you. Give you pleasure. You no longer deny yourself it. You embrace it. Crave it.”

All she can do is nod. Nod slowly and slightly. In her head it’s hardly a nod, but to him it’s all the agreement he needs to move his hand farther up her leg, coming past her knee to rest on her thigh. It sends waves of dirty thoughts and electricity through her. She bites the inside of her cheek to settle herself. To try and act like a normal person, to not show all the thoughts blazing through her head, the need that’s pounding at her core. The way she has to steady her legs to not open up for him.

“Just like the many nights you’ve thought about me while you gave in to the pleasure.”

Her heart stops. She doesn’t have to question. She doesn’t have to make a show. She knows what he is talking about. How he knows is what shocks her most, what has her questioning and embarrassment burning at her cheeks. But he knows and that’s enough to make her not question. To make her want to die in that moment.

But he loves it. Loves the look of shock on her face that she tries to hide. Loves the way she wants to deny it but her lips, her tongue, her desire won’t let her.

“You have thought about me, correct?”

She hates that he asks when he so clearly knows the answer. But her eyes avert his, shifting down to her fidgeting hands as she nods.

A satisfied hum comes from him. She almost wants to scowl at him. Tell him to not flatter himself. But she can’t. She couldn’t deny the want and desire for him even if she tried. No lie she could think up, or excuse, or fake expression could derail him. Could deny him the truth. She wanted him. It was the clearest thing in the room.

“What have you thought about?” He asks.  
She thinks it might be a sarcastic question. But when her eyes meet his she knows it’s not. His dark gaze. The inching of his hand crawling up her thigh ever so slow. He wants to know. He wants the confession just as much as she wants him.

“You,” she feels foolish. She feels hot. Heat burns her cheeks and all over her body. She feels like she’s on fire. “Touching me. Kiss–kissing me.” She looks away as she whispers her next words, “fucking me.”

He smirks. She can’t tell if it’s cocky, genuine, or what it is. He just does it and before she knows his hand has slipped under the layers of her dress and is touching her bare thigh. The heat from the leather glove making her teeth dig more into her cheek. Stifling a needy moan from falling from her lips. She has to press her heels into the floor, trying not to push her hips up. To not move his hand up her thigh.

“You want that so bad, don’t you?” He edges. “You wish for me to rid you of your dress, your undergarments, to bend you over the arm of this chair and appease to your desires. To the pleasure that’s building up inside of you, don’t you?” Her only response is the breath that hitches in her throat. “You want to sin so badly. To give in so badly. To give in to the devil. To give in to me. To sin for me.” His hand inches up her leg until it reaches her upper thigh. She closes her eyes trying to steady herself. Trying to focus on not opening herself up to him. But with one twitch of his wrists and her legs are opening, as wide as the leather chair allows. Her nails digging into the arms. Waiting to feel that touch. That brush of his finger tips where she needs it the most.

“Tell me.” He commands. His pointer finger reaching out to skate the lightest of touches across her underwear. A simple, soft, action that has a barely audible moan falling from her lips. “Tell me what you want and I will give it to you. Give in. I want to know, to see how you give into your sin. Give in to me.”

She thinks she should get up, stop this, leave the room. But she can’t. She’s glued to the chair. She’s glued under his gaze, under his touch. And she wants it so bad. To feel the heat of the leather against her skin. She needs it.

She’s never fought the devil before. She’s never been one at being able to fight the aches and desires. She always gave in eventually. So why not now? Giving into him was easier than fighting. She didn’t want to fight. In the back of her mind she knew that the logical thing would be to. But with her body on fire with lust and more feelings than she could pin down, the only thing on her mind was sin. Giving in to him, to Langdon.

“I want,” she starts, her breath heavy, her words coming out in hot needy puffs. “I want you to touch me.”

“Where?” She wants to let out a frustrated groan but she’s afraid it’ll stop his actions. So she uses her hand to show him, reaching beneath the layers of her dress to find his hand against her thigh. Gripping his hand she moves it so his fingers are splayed out against her underwear, an action that has her involuntarily bucking her hips at the touch.

“There.” She moans softly.

Langdon doesn’t move his hand, nor does he respond quickly. His eyes are dark and filled with something just as unreadable as his face, but it makes her stomach drop. It makes her nails dig deeper into the arm of the chair. It makes her hips move on their own accord.

And when he quickly removes his hand from her, standing up and grabbing her wrist to pull her up with him she’s shocked. She half expects him to tell her to get out. That this was all a test and she failed. Or that he was done with her.

But he doesn’t. She watches wide eyed as he takes her place in the leather chair. He looks to her, the corners of his mouth pulling up into that infamous smirk.

“Remove your dress.” He orders.

“W-What?” She stutters, confused.

He sighs. She can’t tell if he’s impatient or he just does not like to repeat himself. She thinks probably both and it makes her nerves feel like pins and needles poking at her insides.

“Remove your dress, please.” He says again, this time speaking slower and not breaking eye contact.

She doesn’t question it again. Almost too afraid of what he might do. Too afraid he might kick her out and she will get nothing.

So she listens. She reaches behind and unzips the purple gown. Her eyes never leaving his as she, ever so slowly, pushes the dress down her body, stepping from it once it hits her feet.

She’s left in her stockings that go up to her knee, her underwear and corset. She fiddles with her fingers nervously as she waits for the next command. The heat from the fire place doing little to stop her skin from leaving patches of goosebumps all over her body. She had never been exposed in a way like this. His gaze could burn a hole through her.

And watching her nervously shift from foot to foot made him scoff softly. She really was something. Something soft and light, yet something dirty and dark. She wore all of that like a beautiful sweater of sin and delight. It intrigued him. His eyes trailed over every inch of her body, taking all of her in. The dip of her collar bones, the way the stark white made every curve of her body stand out in such a beautiful way. His thoughts had been anything but decent since he set his eyes on her, and they were much worse.

“Come.” He orders and she listens. Coming to stand in front of him. Her gaze pointed down to the floor. His hand wraps around her forearm as he pulls her on top of him, her legs coming on either side him, not leaving much room between them and the sides of the chair. She had almost been worried about squishing him but he did not seem to mind. The chair was making it easier for them to be closer, to be touching at all angles.

His hand start at the base of her thigh, his fingers leaving the lightest touch as they explore up her thigh. He doesn’t stop until he’s reached her underwear. His eyes shifting up to look at her as he runs his index finger along the outside of her underwear, her eyes closing and needy moans falling from her parted lips.

He continues this for what seems like hours. Rubbing her from outside of her underwear. Pushing on the fabric until he’s spreading her folds, his fingers exploring her from the outside. Her hands grip his shoulders. Her hips bucking themselves up into his touch. Her moans and needy and wanting. She needs more. She needs to feel him closer. She can feel how wet she is, how soaked her underwear is, and he knows how much she wants it. How much she wants to feel the leather against her core. His face says it, just ask, ask and I’ll give it to you.

And when his finger skates over her clit she can’t play this game anymore. “Please.” She moans, begging. Needing. “Please, touch me,” She breaths. “I need to feel you. Please.”

This makes him smirk and without a word he’s slipping past her panties and the hot leather is rubbing circles on her swollen clit.

She can’t help the “Oh my god,” that falls from her mouth. Her nails digging into the velvet material of his jacket.

“God has nothing to do with this.” His voice his gruff. His other hand ventures up her body until it’s around her neck. His grip is light, and the leather sets fire to her skin. She moans when she feels his fingers press harder into the sides of her neck. He’s not choking her, but he’s testing the waters and the more he presses the louder she moans. “God could never make you feel this good.” He pulls her neck down so her face is inches from his. He presses a finger to her entrance, running a teasing circle around it. “Tell me, do I make you feel good? Does it feel good to give into sin? Into the devil? Or does god make you feel good? Are you a good girl for him? Or me?”

His lips are inches from her’s, his breath hitting her in hot puffs that have her wanting to lean forward and capture his lips. She wants to push down on his fingers, she wants to feel him inside of her, feel the red leather against her walls. She wants it. She needs it. And if she has to praise him, bow to him, sin to him, she will. She would a million fucking times over.

“You,” She moans. “You, Langdon, please.” Her hands find his hair, the soft locks feel like silk against her palms as she grips it. A low moan coming from him at the tug and pull.

His finger finally pushes inside of her, her mouth dropping open, her hips stopping as the sheer pleasure of feeling him inside of her, feeling the leather inside of her, takes over her. Her body feels like it’s on fire but the leather against and inside of her cunt burns hotter than anything.

“I want you to show me how you touch yourself with me on your mind.” He adds another finger and it has her head spinning. The way she immediately reacts to him has a satisfactory grin etching onto his face. Her hips rock against her fingers at a slow pace. The press of his thumb still on her clit makes her legs shake. The way her fingers pull at her hair has him growing hard. It has him suppressing groans. He knew the effect a woman could have over a man. He knew the effect she had over him, curiosity and intrigue. But the way her hips rocked and pushed down as she fucked herself with his fingers, and the way her moans of pure pleasure and ecstasy sounded like the sweetest melody he had ever heard, it had feelings and his own desires bubbling up inside of him. The things of how he could tease her more or make her moan even louder raced through his brain.

But for now, he was going to let her enjoy this. He was going to enjoy the show she was putting on for him. The pleasure and sin that was overcoming her.

She could feel herself getting closer to the edge. Her hips speeding up, her breath becoming more ragged. His fingers felt like a level of pleasure she had never felt before. The way they curled inside of her. The thickness the leather added to them. How enticing the rough texture felt against her walls. How his grip on her neck was still burning and sending hot waves down to her painfully aching core. The way his thumb still pressed at her clit. It was all too much. His dark eyes and shallow breaths only added to it.

She could never make herself feel this good. No. Nobody could, only him. She swore she could hear his voice in her head, she swore she could hear him saying ‘only the devil can make you feel this good.’ she swore she could hear him from all over. Feel him from all over. As if he had taken possession of her body. Over every nerve ending she had. Every pressure and pleasure point. She could feel him everywhere.

And when he added a third finger she lost it, her forehead pressed to his as her orgasm ripped through her like a storm. Her legs shaking, her eyes clenched, her mouth agape in a silent moan of ecstasy. She had forgotten how to breath. Her body was filled with electricity. She was sure she had pulled out some of his hair. She was sure she had never been ripped a part from an orgasm like that before. She knew she never had. The intensity almost bringing tears to her eyes. This was a whole new level of pleasure and ecstasy that had her feeling sedated. Feeling as light as a feather but as wrecked as being in a storms path.

She hissed lowly as Langdon removed his fingers from her. The burn and ache from where they just were inside of her bringing a whole other feeling of pleasure to her. She was sure she could and would never feel pleasure like this again.

And as she pulled herself back, her tired eyes looking at the dark and satisfied look on his face. The way he looked at his gloved hand, the leather coated in her juices. She was almost sure she would get to feel that pleasure again. From him.

And only him.

**Author's Note:**

> requests are always open over @ my tumblr langdvn!! 
> 
> feed back is always welcome!!


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